


tear in my heart

by end_thistragedy



Series: take me higher than i've ever been [2]
Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Depression, F/M, Falling In Love, M/M, Self-Medication, Unrequited Love, unhealthy behaviors
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:54:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4427453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/end_thistragedy/pseuds/end_thistragedy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>He wishes he could have fallen in love with Harry, thinks of how much easier it would be, how they'd fit together seamlessly. But then he thinks about Niall. Niall and the way he seems to sense when there's something wrong, when Zayn's lost himself to his own suffocating thoughts, wrapped up in a tight bundle of panic.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>And then he's back to Liam. And the way that sometimes he's the one who triggers it, sends him spiraling, straight down until he can hardly breathe.</i>
</p><p>
  <i>Zayn falls. That's what he does. He falls fast, he falls hard, and he falls deep. </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	tear in my heart

**Author's Note:**

> This story is so important to me tbh. It is a prequel/sequel to [you love love love.](http://archiveofourown.org/works/3619419) It's not entirely necessary to read that one, but it may help set up this story. 
> 
> And please, please look at the warnings! The full extent of Zayn's anxiety/depression isn't explicitly laid out, but his thoughts and behaviors may need a warning!

_then_

His story, Zayn likes to think, like most - begins at a party.

The party is mildly tame and exclusive and he thinks it may be Ed’s or Harry’s friend Grimmy’s, or some other pseudo-indie mutual acquaintance that Zayn barely interacts with. It’s likely Ed’s based on the amount of guitars hung high up on the walls and the random decor and furniture that look like they were found in the actual garbage.

Zayn is newly 21, a drink or three away from being unbelievably fucked, and juggling with keeping up the illusion that he’s not getting dizzy every time he even tries to move from his spot on the lumpy sofa in the basement.

Harry’s sat on the floor on the opposite couch, between Lou’s legs with his head tilted over the side as she tries to braid his hair. Lou, like with everything she’s gotten her friends to let her try out, thinks it’s going to turn out amazing, but Harry already looks ridiculous, so Zayn doesn’t particularly want to be around for the result. He doesn’t think he can handle appeasing her even just once more.

He’s lucky Louis and his gaudy personality stumbles into the room and announces, “I think Morgan Freeman hates me.”

Zayn, sunk into the couch, blinks up at the ceiling, preparing himself for what might proceed. It doesn’t look good as evidenced by Louis’ stumbling through limbs until he can find his way over to Zayn, grumpily sitting on the couch’s armrest.

Zayn has to move the cup he’s been working on, exhaling and feeling the exhaustion down to his bones. “You think Morgan Freeman hates you,” he repeats dryly.

“No, no. What? _God_ hates me. Are you even listening?”

“Not really,” Zayn says, “Niall isn’t with you?”

“He’s here. He’s just dragging his puppy dog faced new friend around.”

“New friend?”

“Oh - is it Liam? He’s been talking about him for ages!” Harry butts in, getting a slap when he moves his head.

“To be honest, I don’t actually remember his name,” Louis admits.

Zayn snorts, “Helpful.”

“If we’re being fair, I could barely hear a damn thing between the two of them running their mouths. It’s like they’ve never heard their own voices before.”

"And you didn't fit right in with them?" Lou teases.

" _Thank you_ , Louise. That's enough of you."

"She's not wrong." Zayn says.

Louis turns to him, an offended hand to his chest, "Et tu?"

"I don't think you're annoying, Louis." Harry tries to appease him, but Zayn knows it's bullshit, considering not but an hour earlier Harry had said, "Well, not Louis. He’s a bit of a brat, isn't he?" when they'd played a game of Who Would You Rather Be Stuck On An Island With?

"See that—that's loyalty. You can always depend on Harry Styles."

“I mean.” Harry drawls. “What’s your definition of dependable?”

But before Louis can answer someone yells Zayn’s name accompanied with an array of indistinguishable sounds and Zayn braces himself for Niall’s attack. It comes in the form of Niall climbing into Zayn’s lap, clumsily seizing him in a headlock.

“Hey, ow--” Zayn gets knocked on the side of the head with Niall’s elbow, but he’s giggling, as Louis smacks his lips and moves to sit on the ground instead. “Niall.”

“Hey! You all right?” Niall asks, dragging his mouth across Zayn’s cheek in what is supposedly a kiss, but far from it. “How long’ve you been here?” He goes, shooting a wave in Harry and Lou’s direction.

“Long,” he replies, running a hand down Niall’s back to rest at the bottom, ‘Heard you have a new friend?”

"Oh! Yeah, Payno! Come and meet Zayn!"

Zayn blinks, his tunnel vision for Niall shattering as he glances up at the boy hovering off to the side, successfully dodging Louis' attempts to slap him by swatting at his hands.

Zayn blinks again when he realizes Liam might be the most weirdly attractive person he's ever seen. He wonders if this is what a holy shit moment feels like. If there are fireworks or exclamation points dancing around his head.

"Quit it, Louis!" Liam reprimands, "How's it going? I'm Li—am! Ouch! Tommo!"

“Give it a rest!” Niall shouts, but, ironically moving from Zayn’s lap with a mess of limbs to tackle Louis to the ground.

“Watch your knee, Niall,” says Zayn, because Niall is careless, a bit of a wildcard sometimes, even worse than Louis. But he’s ignored, unheard over the sound of the two of them screaming at each other like they’re seven years old and on the playground and not full grown men.

Louis is pinning Niall to the ground when Liam speaks again, “Is it always like this?” startling Zayn as he takes Louis’ spot on the armchair of the couch.

Zayn can’t look at him, this close. It’s too much, too overwhelming. Liam smells like a confusing mix of cologne and a fruity shampoo that reminds Zayn a lot of Harry, or the way his oldest sister would smell when he’d hug her, slightly sweet.

Zayn nods his head because he knows Liam is looking at him. “You learn to tune it out,” he assures.

“It must be awfully exhausting. I mean—I thought Niall was a handful.”

Zayn nearly scoffs, offended on Niall’s behalf. He chances a glance at Liam, whose smile is quite possibly the worst thing that Zayn has ever seen and he immediately regrets it. “Niall’s cute and apologetic,” he reasons, “There’s a difference. Louis’ just a menace.”

“He gave me a good slap in the balls when we met. Said it was just how he introduced himself.”

“He’s an idiot,” Zayn rolls his eyes. “He’s the product of never being disciplined or told no ever in his life.”

“It’s charming, though, isn’t it?” Liam says, but Zayn is not sure he agrees with that. “Oh! I’ve been rude, haven’t I. I’m Liam.”

Zayn grabs the hand Liam offers, finally able to pull himself together enough to look into his eyes, “I’m aware. If we’re stating the obvious, I’m Zayn.”

Zayn can’t be positive, but it looks like Liam is turning red, taking his hand back and using it rub the back of his neck instead. “Right. Well, it's nice to meet you, Zayn. I've heard a bit about you.”

That sends flares to Zayn’s mind, feeling his defenses go up, prepared to be ashamed, ridiculed, shrunken down into insignificance. "Oh yeah? Like what?"

"Hmm. Well Niall’s a big fan. Says you're obnoxiously smart and interesting and incredibly deep and warm even though you don’t believe it and too cool to be friends with him. He hopes you never realize because you're one of the nicest, loveliest and most attractive people he's ever met."

Zayn glances over to find Niall, he and Louis done fighting, Louis' already chatting to a girl he's been on and off with. Zayn thinks she's an old friend, and he's looking close to running off with her. Niall's sat with Harry and Lou now. Zayn watches Niall throw his head back and laugh, one of the boisterous ones that are weirdly hypnotizing. It makes Zayn smile and he gets a tug in his chest that he’s come to accept as fondness for his best friend. But he tears himself away before he gets too much in his feelings, gives his attention back to Liam. "You and Niall sit around and talk about me a lot, do you?"

"Nearly every day." Liam says without missing a beat, "Got us a schedule and everything. Proper lessons. Niall’s an expert."

Zayn eyes him, smirk on his face, bringing his cup up to his mouth. "So? What do you think?"

"About?" Liam’s confusion shows in his eyebrows, a slight pout of his lips that is barely noticeable.

Zayn gestures down his own body. "Do I live up to your expectations?"

Liam hums, thoughtfully. He even strokes his chin. "I thought you'd be taller."

"Fuck off! We're like the same height."

"No way. I'm at least an inch taller."

"Half an inch. I'll give you that."

Liam chuckles, one that's damn near a giggle. "I'll gladly take it."

Zayn runs a shaky hand through his hair, feeling like he's about to lose control, like he's barreling down a narrow path with no breaks, heading straight towards the edge of a cliff.

Liam gets crinkles in his eyes when he smiles.

_now_

Zayn opens his eyes to Niall's peaceful, sleeping face, and blinks against the morning light streaming in through the blinds he stupidly forgot to shut when they stumbled in the night before.

He feels like he should be battling with some kind of rapidly budding ball of regret, deep in his chest, like his anxiety should be flaring up, rendering him incapable of thinking straight, just in circles, all around the giant elephant currently sitting silently and patiently in the room. But.

There's nothing.

There's a bitch of headache, but. That's it. No replays of all of the bad decisions he's made throughout his entire life, somehow leading up to this exact moment. No tremors in his hands from not being able to himself calm down, to suppress the intrusive thoughts that threaten to take over his susceptible mind. No demonizing self-talk.

Nothing.

There's just Niall. And up close, Zayn can see the light color of his eyelashes, how they look a greyish color instead of the usual brown.

He brings his hand up to rest on his own head, scratching at his eyebrow before turning onto his back.

When his alarm goes off what must be awhile later, it startles him out of his paralysis of staring at the ceiling. He lets it run on until the constant, shrill beeping is echoing in his ears and the body next to him is groaning, rolling over onto the other side of the bed with a "Fuckin' hell," that convinces Zayn to move, remembering why he's hearing the alarm in the first place and propping himself on his elbows to reach for his phone and cut the sound off.

Niall doesn't move again, assumably falling back into sleep. But Zayn sits up all the way, stretches, and sets his feet flat on the ground, scratching his jaw and staring distantly across the room.

 _Okay_ , he thinks. Okay.

He kissed Niall. And Niall he...he kissed him back. It happened and Zayn can't stop thinking about it. Doesn’t want to stop thinking about it. Kissing Niall had unlocked something in his chest, he'd felt a pull, something releasing and an alleviating warmth spreading through his veins like a dosage. He'd felt lifted, higher than he's ever been in his entire life.

Kissing Niall had felt like being set free.

\--

When Niall finally wakes, Zayn is standing in the kitchen, staring at the toaster and waiting for the bread to pop out.

He doesn’t make a sound, but Zayn knows he’s there, and he turns around and Niall’s leaning against the doorframe. He doesn’t look ashamed that he’s been caught staring and Zayn doesn’t know why he loves that about him--he’s never embarrassed.

There's silence between them for a beat then, "Hi."

It's a bit strange. They haven’t even been apart, but Zayn has a pain resonating in his chest that feels like it's been months, years even.

Niall laughs, a lot more contained than Zayn has ever heard. "This is weird, isn't it? This is so weird. I feel weird. Do you feel weird?"

Zayn laughs like he can't help it, feeling it pulled out of him by Niall's radiating and infectious happiness. "I feel very weird." He admits.

Niall hums. "Don't want it to be weird. I hate it already. Let's make it unweird."

"That's not a word, Niall."

Niall's responding shrug is cute and Zayn doesn't understand why a shrug is suddenly so appealing. "I don't care. I'll make up words if it means I'll get to kiss you again. I'd do anything."

"Yeah? Like what?"

"Anything. Tell me to jump and I'll ask how high."

"Are you this cliche to all the boys?"

"Only the cutest ones."

Zayn plays it up, swatting at Niall, faux bashful. “I’m blushing, Ni. But at least you know.”

Niall laughs, eyes big and bright.

_then_

When Zayn comes out of his room from taking a much needed middle of the afternoon nap, Liam's there, but Louis is gone, having been there earlier with the baby before she'd gotten fussy and tired and he'd run out of bottled breast milk to give her.

His feet barely make a sound as he pads over to the couch, lying down with his head in Liam's lap. He takes the remote where it'd been stuck between Liam's thigh and the arm rest and starts switching through channels.

"Hey, you okay?" Liam uses one hand to scratch the hair behind Zayn's ear.

"Tired." Zayn replies.

"From what?" Liam asks and Zayn winces, hating hearing that response.

"Just tired," he says, physically, mentally, emotionally exhausted.

Liam is quiet for a moment, hand resting on Zayn's back. Zayn leans into the warmth, waits for him to speak, to ask the question that he knows has been generating in Liam's mind over the years they've known each other, never quite making its way out."Does it happen a lot?"

Zayn only hesitates a moment, stopping his channel surfing on the animal channel, before he nods. He thinks it might be time.

"Like, how often?" Liam asks, sounding cautious, like he's afraid he's going to overstep.

"I feel it everyday."

"Are you." Liam pauses. Zayn can hear him taking a breath. "You're getting help, right?"

Zayn nods again.

"Ok," Liam runs his hand up Zayn's back and down again. "I'm here--you know. For you. If you need anything."

"Thank you." Zayn says.

"I promise. I'm right here. Same as always. I'm not going anywhere."

"Good," Zayn says, then admits, "Cause I'd miss you too much, Liam."

\--

Liam kisses Zayn in his own bed.

Liam had been there for him, like he's promised, offering him a shoulder to lean on, giving him a distraction and not pointing it out when Zayn would get quiet and misty eyed.

They'd been giggling at a terrible low budget horror film Zayn had torrented on Liam's laptop, passing a bottle of fruit punch vodka back and forth, the liquid leaving a rather unpleasant cough syrup taste in Zayn's mouth.

After pulling themselves together from the spike of laughter induced by the villain of the film delivering a spectacularly cheesy line, Liam rests his forehead against Zayn's shoulder as their laughter quiets down. Zayn's pulse instantly picks up speed the moment he feels Liam's head raise just slightly, but enough to get Zayn to turn to see what went wrong.

Everything was fine, more than fine, Zayn realizes, as Liam brings a hand up to tilt Zayn's head down by his chin, pressing his red, red lips against Zayn's.

Zayn sits frozen for a moment, frowning into the kiss, unresponsive. "Liam," He pulls away, feels Liam's lips drag across his cheek, sending a chill racing down his spine.

Liam leans back, eyes wide, and shakes his head. "Oh--god. Zayn, I'm so sorry. I'm so, so sorr--"

"How long?"

Liam's eyebrows knit together, as he keeps leaning back slowly. "What?"

Zayn reaches forward to grab onto the front of Liam's hoodie, keeping him in place. "Liam, how long have you wanted to do that?"

"I don't--I don't know."

"You're lying." Zayn tells him.

"Been thinking about it."

Zayn feels his jaw clench, his throat sore as it moves when he swallows. "You have to tell me right now that this isn't some kind of joke. You have to be serious about this, Liam. I--I need you to be serious."

Liam rests his hands on top of Zayn's where they're now pulling at the strings on Liam's hoodie, nervously. "Zayn."

Zayn sinks down into the bed, leaning his head against the bed frame. "Liam. I just don't think--are you thinking straight?"

Liam snorts, runs his hand up to cup Zayn's cheek, says, "I hope not."

"I'm serious." Zayn says, firmly, but it's low, as he can't help but lean into Liam's hand.

"I'm okay, it's okay," Liam tells him, adjusting his body until he's back at Zayn's height.

Zayn flicks his eyes up and wants to kiss him again, kiss away the worry in his own head. So that's what he does, he lets Liam kiss him, and this time, Zayn kisses him back desperately, pushing the _that's not what I asked_ to the back of his mind.

He'd thrown up when Liam left that night--alcohol mixed with nerves making his head spin and keeping him sat against the wall beside the toilet for over an hour. He'd stared at the clock on the wall in the kitchen as he drank a glass of water, picturing Liam's face right before he'd kissed him, and he brushed his teeth three times, avoiding the mirror, staring down into the sink with the water running as he thought about the way Liam had exhaled into the kiss like he'd finally been satisfied of this desperate want.

He thinks about filling up the bathtub and drowning himself, the water flowing over the edge.

When he gets to work the next day, a rare Saturday he and only three other employees volunteered to come in exchange for an off day during the week, he finds Harry in the break room eating breakfast, and says, without preamble, "Liam kissed me."

Zayn hears the clank of the spoon against the bowl, but his back is turned as he retrieves the milk from the fridge.

Harry clears his throat and gets up from the table silently to take his bowl to the sink. "Are you all right?" He asks, the strained sound of his voice an obvious indicator that he's tense, pissed off, but still concerned, knowing that, above all, that's what is most important.

"I'm not sure." Zayn answers truthfully. "I don't know."

Liam hasn't called. Or texted. All Zayn is getting is radio silence. And it's fine. Of course it's fine. It's just. Liam could give him something. Zayn is owed that, at least.

"Zayn," Harry sounds like he's begging, his tone low and sad. There's a moment's pause before he's releasing an audible sigh, enough to send Zayn straight into his own increasing guilt, his throat near closing up. "Tell me what you need me to do."

There's soft music playing, Zayn realizes. A slow, hypnotizing tune that ushers a chill straight through him, goosebumps rising on his arms once he's fully aware of every tantalizing beat.

He feels weak. Even though he knows he's not. Knows everything that's wrong with using such language, but he can't help it. Can't help but get trapped in this stubborn state of mind that convinces him into a way of thinking that goes against his very being.

"I feel trapped, Haz." Zayn admits, his hand tightening around the carton of almond milk in his grip. "I don't--I don't know what to do."

He must look and sound near tears, because he's blinking and Harry's there, right in front of him, beckoning him into his arms. "Come here," he says.

And Zayn goes, feeling like an infantilized version of himself, idiotic, a hopeless mess.

Harry wraps his arms around him, his hand flat on Zayn's back to rub soothing circles. "Do you want to talk about it some more?"

Harry's voice is quiet and Zayn closes his eyes, shakes his head no. It's not worth it.

"All right. But you know we have to. Later, when you're ready."

And that's what Zayn has always liked about Harry, the fact that he doesn't ever press too hard, is there for comfort, to sit in comfortable silence, or ramble on whenever it's necessary.

He wishes he could have fallen in love with Harry, thinks of how much easier it would be, how they'd fit together seamlessly.

But then he thinks about Niall. Niall and the way he seems to sense when there's something wrong, when Zayn's lost himself to his own suffocating thoughts, wrapped up in a tight bundle of panic.

But then he's back to Liam. And the way that sometimes he's the one who triggers it, sends him spiraling, straight down until he can hardly breathe.

It's the same, lost feeling that he had as a kid, latching onto Danny and losing his mind when he'd moved away, as a teenager and throughout the first few years of college, falling too hard and too fast and getting Perrie tattooed on his arm and sinking further into himself than he's ever been when she'd broken it off after two years.

Zayn falls. That's what he does. He falls fast, he falls hard, and he falls deep.

\---

Zayn is regrettably the one who answers when there's a careful, controlled knock on the door of Niall's place, Niall and Harry distracted in the kitchen over a meaningless debate Zayn had only caught snippets of.

He was expecting a frazzled Louis, carrying a newborn in his arms, sick of being home bound while the mother's away. So he hadn't expected Liam to be standing there with his hand attached to who he introduces as Sophia. He doesn't say anything at first, his mouth going inexplicably dry. But Liam's, "Hey! All right?" snaps him to attention.

Zayn says, "Dinner's nearly ready," for lack of anything better to say. He actually didn't know how far along the two reckless idiots were in the kitchen, but his mouth had taken off without him, his mind stuck circling around the thought, _is this really fucking happening right now?_

Liam's response of, "Great! We're starving," is lost on Zayn as he walks away and into the bathroom to splash water on his face and sit on the edge of the tub to calm himself down, practice the mindfulness his therapist has been recommending.

When he comes back out, Liam is still there, Sophia is still there, by his side, and Zayn feels a surge of nausea hit him hard.

And later, Zayn excuses himself for a smoke because he felt like he was suffocating, being in that room, verging on a proper panic attack. He couldn't stand to watch Liam pretend that nothing happened.

He forgoes the balcony and decides to leave the apartment altogether, leaning his back against the brick of the building out in front. Liam follows him. He always did. Zayn once asked him about it after it'd grown to be obvious and slightly worrying, and he'd replied, "I know what your head can do to you on your own." And Zayn had suddenly lost his ability to think, let alone speak.

It's not hard to figure out his reason for trailing behind him tonight.

"Honestly, Li. I don't feel like talking." Zayn says, immediately. And he doesn't, each word seemingly taking all of the strength out of him. He doesn't particularly want to hear his own voice, either.

Liam leans against the wall next to him, their shoulders touching. "That's okay. Neither do I."

Zayn is tossing the butt of the cigarette on the ground when he speaks again. "She's sweet."

Liam watches him carefully, blinking. Before smiling at him. "She's lovely. I was so excited to bring her to meet you. I didn't know when the right time would be."

Zayn snorts, and thinks, _You kissed me_. He thinks, _You kissed me and you have a girlfriend_. "Yeah," Zayn says. _Does she know?_ "Think I'm gonna head out."

"Oh." Liam says, smile fading. He looks helpless all of a sudden. Not knowing what to do with his hands. _Are you really this clueless?_ "Okay. You sure? Are you all right?"

"M'fine. Just tired."

"Do you want me to take you home? Soph wouldn't mind tagging along--"

"I'm a big boy." Zayn says, a bit too harshly if the way Liam is taken aback is anything to go by.

"What? I know that, I was just--" Liam stops, makes a face that has his eyebrows trying to meet in the middle. "Are you sure you're all right? Did I--did I do something, or."

Zayn's stomach drops. He can't. He can't do this. He steps away from Liam, shaking his head. "I'm fucking fantastic."

"All right, well." Liam sounds reluctant, hesitant. "I'll see you later?"

Zayn bobs his head in a jerky way that he hopes coveys the possibility and turns to walk away before Liam can say anything else.

_now_

Niall comes into the apartment with dinner, looking like he's been for a run and Zayn wouldn't put it past him that he'd actually just came back from the gym. And it's hard not to think about how the first thing he did was forgo a shower in his own place to drop by and get dinner for Zayn who's not even sure that he has an appetite anymore.

"Hey," Niall greets, smiling too brightly like he hasn't seen Zayn in the past 24 hours. Zayn watches him head straight to the kitchen like he owns the place and throw his keys on the counter. "Forgot to call to see if you were home. I was starving so I thought I'd get you something too but they completely botched the order and had to make an entire new bowl so they gave us the wrong order for free. It has guacamole on it which I know you hate but if you want I'll eat all the guacamole and you can have the rest. The line was so long and I got irritated so I forgot to ask for extra sauce but I think I saw some in your fridge?"

"Niall."

"Mmm?" He says, shoving a chip in his mouth. The crunch is unsettlingly loud in the room and when Zayn actually flinches at the sound, Niall frowns, asks, "You okay?" and he looks around, taking in the scene, "Why are you just sitting in the silence? Is everything all right?"

Zayn wills his legs to stop acting like this isn't Niall and stands a little shakily to join him in the kitchen.

He's not sure whether or not he wants to be so close to Niall that he can see the disappointment in his face when he tells him everything he's been thinking about. He wants to be far enough away so that when the rejection part comes, Niall can't reach out and give him one of those sympathy touches on the arm or shoulder. Zayn has no time for sympathy. He just wants to get this over with as soon as possible so they can move on with their lives--so he can feel like he doesn't have to be careful around Niall when he sees him. "We should talk."

Niall looks down at the counter, then up at Zayn, and Zayn doesn't like how worried he suddenly looks. "Okay...I. Could I eat while we talk? I'm so hungry--"

Zayn waves a hand, "That's fine. Go ahead." Maybe it'd be better if Niall's focused on eating as well. Zayn reaches for his own bowl, thankful for the distraction. "Um." He says, peeling the plastic covering off his food, frowning when he discovers it's the one with guacamole.

"Oh. Sorry. I told her to put that one on the bottom." Niall's fork dangles out of his mouth as he grabs Zayn's proper bowl out of the bag and Zayn makes a pained face at the way his jaw tightens around the fork.

He'd never noticed how fit Niall was, but lately it keeps hitting him like a crash. Now, it's the way his old football tshirt is a tiny bit too small, the contrast of the dark color against his skin, the way his shorts cling to his narrow hips. His god awful blue eyes, his smooth pale skin. Zayn blinks when Niall slides his food across the counter.

"Zayn? What were you saying?" He nudges, always the one encouraging Zayn, paving the way for him to speak when he knows it's difficult for him.

"I--" and Zayn doesn't know whether to be thankful or pissed off when his phone starts to ring, loud and obnoxious. "Hold on." He says, and Niall shrugs and looks content with eating his dinner.

He grabs his phone off the coffee table and sighs when he sees that it's his mother. Even when he's grown and out of the house she's still somehow managing to keep boys away from him. He answers, "Hey, momma," in the most unaffected tone and gives Niall a long-suffering look. She'll probably give him a slap for it the next time he sees her.

Niall smiles and Zayn regrettably thinks he understands what swooning feels like.

They'll speak later. He knows they may need to.

\--

Zayn's never had sex like sex with Niall. Sex with Niall is oddly familiar--it's surprisingly strong hands and skilled tongues and, well. Extensive.

Zayn sort of feels like he's had some kind of awakening, but he'll take that straight to the grave.

The first time they make it through without coming mere moments after they touch and tug each other, Zayn covers his face with a pillow and laughs. He laughs until Niall punches him lightly in the stomach, biting the thin skin of his collarbone when that fails to get Zayn to stop.

"Stop laughing. What the hell?" Niall sounds amused and worried at the same time and that's one of his talents, the way he won't ever fully show his vulnerable side, only lets it bleed out occasionally in his words. It's so quick that it feels like it was never there at all. But it still makes Zayn take the pillow off of his face and turn his head, unable to wipe off his dopey grin.

Niall's face is much closer than he'd imagined and he finds himself smiling into his frighteningly blue eyes. They look darker without the lights on but Zayn can still make out their usual brightness. Niall's always so fucking bright.

"Don't be offended." Zayn says, "I was just thinking."

"About what? How to offend a guy who's just had your dick in their mouth?" Niall's hair is shaggy and mostly brown now than blonde, and it's sticking up at odd ends from Zayn pulling at it and Zayn reaches a hand up to push the hair off of his forehead. It makes his hair look even worse. He's ridiculously cute.

"You're so good at this." Zayn says, words seeping into the space between them like a secret.

"At what?" Niall snaps his teeth at Zayn's wrist where it's bumping into his nose and Zayn pulls his hand away to flick at him. "Sex?" Niall finishes, one of his hands coming down to rest at Zayn's hip.

Zayn feels his cheeks warm. He doesn't know what he's doing. This wasn't a conversation you had with a best friend. But then--you also don't normally fuck your best friend, either.

"Yeah. I just--" He stops and laughs again, feeling a bit delirious. He's not sure if it's the good kind or the batshit kind. He doesn't think there's much of a difference. "I just never would have thought--"

Niall snorts and runs a hand through his hair himself, scratching at the bangs on his forehead. "It may surprise you, Malik, but I have had sex before."

Zayn says, "This kind of sex?" without thinking and instantly regrets it.

"What do you mean 'this kind of sex'? Sex is sex. And I've had it."

"You know what I mean though." Zayn hopes.

Niall frowns, and Zayn leans forward to kiss it away. The hand on Zayn's hip tightens. "You want to talk about the people I've slept with? Is that it? Right now?" Zayn doesn't say anything. Niall's thumb starts tracing patterns. "Okay." Niall says.

Oh. Zayn hadn't actually meant-- "You don't have to."

"No. We've started this." Niall says, "And you won't be able to stop thinking about it."

Zayn doesn't like being that predictable, wonders how bad he's gotten. but leans further into him, to fill what minimal space they've left between their bodies. Niall moves his hand momentarily from Zayn's waist to help pull him closer by the small of his back. Something tugs in Zayn's chest, floods him with warmth, that same feeling from before.

"I've only slept with four people." Niall admits into the silence, and adds, "That's including you."

Zayn watches Niall close his eyes, avoiding Zayn's gaze. "You know the story about my first, yeah?"

"In vivid detail." Zayn says, making a face that will be lost on Niall. It was a girl he went to homecoming with. They were both eighteen. They had sex on the couch in her basement while her parents slept one story up. Zayn knows exactly how Niall licked her out until she started making little puffy sighs and yanked on his hair--it'd been even longer then--and how she sat on his dick and rode him and had to bite her hand to keep from crying out, and how he made her come twice; once with his mouth and then his fingers before he came himself, all over her stomach because she begged him to.

Zayn could never forget that. Niall had only told it to Zayn and Harry when they were sitting in Harry's backyard at the end of the summer and Zayn had rolled a joint and Harry had somehow manipulated them into playing a game that turned filthy rather quickly.

Zayn blinks away the memory and pokes at Niall's chest. "What about the second. Who was she?"

"Well it was a he." Niall corrects and Zayn really isn't doing very well tonight. "I met him at a...fuckin' Stones cover band show. It lasted a month and then I never saw him again."

Zayn's not proud of the throbbing feeling in his head that kind of feels like jealousy. "What'd he look like?" He asks, hoping it sounds casual.

"Does that matter?" Niall asks, and he opens his eyes and Zayn is taken aback by the darkness of them, the brightness gone. "Are you jealous?"

"No." Zayn says, sounding too defensive, "I don't get jealous." Which is blatant lie and they both know it.

Niall's eyes flick away from Zayn's, trailing down, to Zayn's bare chest. "He didn't have any tattoos."

"Okay?"

Niall pinches the skin of Zayn's back, reprimanding. "I dunno. He was good looking. His skin wasn't as smooth as yours."

"Stop it."

"Stop what?"

"Stop comparing him to me."

Niall sighs, Zayn can feel it in his back, and says. "He was tall. He'd say he was 6'1 but I knew he was full of shit. Felt like he was towering over me some days. He had this dark hair that always covered his forehead and these brown eyes that could have competed with Rochelle's--you remember the Humes' yeah?" Niall doesn't wait for an affirmation, "And he always had marks and bruises on his skin because he played football three times a week with his friends from Uni. I met him when I was nineteen and it was a good time."

Zayn presses Niall closer, asks, "Did you love him?"

Niall shakes his head. "Zayn--" It feels an awful like he's closing off.

Zayn brings a hand up from under the blanket to tip Niall's head back up so that he'd look him in the eye. "I loved Liam."

"I know you did." Niall says, blinking back at him.

"So did you love him?"

Niall's shoulders rise a bit but Zayn wouldn't call it a proper shrug. "Yeah." He answers, suddenly sounding exhausted. "I did. For awhile."

"Do you still..." Zayn trails off because he's not sure if he should ask that. Not sure he has the right. This is really none of his business.

But Niall says, "He's married now. He's got a wife and a kid, I believe. Think another one's on the way."

"But do you love him?" Zayn presses. He doesn't know why he needs to know so badly.

"I moved on, Zayn." It's almost like Niall is giving him a pitying look. Zayn doesn't like it. "No. I don't love him anymore."

He feels disappointed. He'd hoped that...well. He didn't know what he hoped. Maybe that they were in the same boat. That they were both helplessly in love with two people who didn't love them back. And that they could fall into each other and everything would be perfect and they'd have the happy ending they deserved. But he's always been a bit deluded. A romantic, Liam would say. _You pretend you're all hard, but I know the real you_.

"I don't love Liam." Zayn says, blinking into Niall's gaze.

Niall smiles, and Zayn doesn't understand why it looks so sad. "Yes, you do."

\--

"I think I really like you." Zayn speaks from where he's sat on the edge of the tub, Niall at the sink brushing his teeth.

It's sometime during the late night, probably nearing one a.m. now. Zayn's got nothing but his pants on, hair flattened against his head from the shower, Niall with a towel around his waist, barely covering the tempting line of hair trailing from beneath his belly button. Zayn can still see the water droplets on Niall's back, running down until they're taken up by the fabric of the towel.

"Yeah?"

"A lot." Zayn nods his head, running a hand over the stubble of his jaw like he's come to doing when he's feeling nervous, but not so locked up in his mind. "We're back to work tomorrow."

Niall turns around, eyeing him. "Zayn--"

"I'd rather you not say anything? I just wanted to let you know." He looks up into Niall's eyes, then, and for the second time sees sadness in his eyes and that's just.

"Okay. I respect that, I do. But what if I told you that I like you, as well?" Zayn doesn't really feel surprised and it's not like it wasn't obvious. You don't behave the way they've been the past few days without feeling something. "What would you do?"

"Well for starters, I'd probably kiss you." Zayn says, honestly. "Lay you out on the bed again. See how good I can make you feel." He admits, eyes dragging over the skin he'd bitten into not but an hour before, the spot he'd sucked onto Nialls chest, just below his nipple. "But circumstances are different and that would just be a bad idea. I mean--Right?"

"Right." Niall says, wiping his mouth, and blindly setting his toothbrush on the sink behind him. "Completely irresponsible."

"Totally beyond stupidity." Zayn agrees, not knowing what words are even coming out of his mouth, just that he's moving, standing and letting Niall pull him in with a grip on his waist.

"But...not entirely?"

"Shut up." Zayn says, and presses his lips against Niall's.

Niall kisses him back for all of ten seconds before he's pulling away, running a hand through his hair and muttering, "Shit."

Zayn's natural instinct is to panic, wonder if somehow he's fucked up. But they've been kissing, they've been kissing a lot. Zayn wants to console him, but he's a little confused as to why he'd have to do that.

"Is there something wrong?"

"No! God, no, Zayn. It's just. I sort of made a promise to Louis and I've tried to push it far to the back of my mind, but it's eating at me."

"What sort of promise?"

Niall looks at him miserably. "That I wouldn't like...get involved? With you?"

Zayn relaxes, this news feeling a lot better than the one he'd imagined. "Right."

"Do you remember when we were all actually alone together for the first time? Back in school, crowded around Harry's tiny dining room table eating the takeout that nearly put us all in the hospital?"

"Of course." Zayn responds, like he could ever forget the night he almost felt like his life couldn't possibly get any better, even when it felt like it was the worst. He was surrounded by his boys and he felt invincible for one sacred moment.

"I don't know. I guess me and you were feeling extra touchy and giggly with each other and it made Louis worry is all. And so I promised him that it was nothing when obviously, for me at least, it was definitely maybe something."

"Definitely maybe something," Zayn repeats. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"About the promise?"

" _No_. About the definitely maybe something."

"I wasn't what you wanted. You were staring at Liam like the sun shined out of his mouth every time he spoke. I watched you fall in love with him. Who was I to get in the way of that?”

“Niall--”

But Niall raises a hand, silencing Zayn immediately. “Don’t look at me like that, Z."

“Like what?” Zayn asks, even though he knows the answer.

“Like I’m some kind of saint. Like you’re praising me for admitting I was selfish and not acting on it. Like that automatically makes me a better person than Liam.”

 _Doesn’t it?_ He thinks.

“It doesn’t,” Niall says, and Zayn knows, knows it isn’t possible for Niall to hear his thoughts. But he knows him so well enough that it might not be that far from being possible.

\--

Niall makes him happy.

The kind that he's never allowed himself to feel, never thought he could feel. He makes him forget, sometimes, that things aren't all that well in his mind. He's a way to get out--when his thoughts are threatening to pull him down, under, keep him locked inside.

They spend two weeks together: Zayn stays at Niall's for a few days and Niall stays at Zayn's, alternating, but they still always end up back at Zayn's because his bed's bigger and his apartment doesn't feel like the fucking arctic.

Zayn hasn't spoken to Liam aside from texts.

They're progressing from the tense 'how are you's?' every so often to full conversations about days in which Zayn finds himself leaving out the most important parts: how domesticated he's become with Niall; how sometimes he likes to wake Niall up with slow and lazy blowjobs that have Niall's fists clenched into the sheets, coming hard on Zayn's tongue, or how Niall likes to cook him recipes from Jamie Oliver because he's obsessed (and blushes when Zayn calls him out on it) and kisses him over a pot of boiling noodles, or how they cuddle on the couch and watch old sitcoms and cartoons on Netflix, or how Zayn lays his head in Niall's lap and reads while they're in bed, as Niall giggles quietly as he swipes through emails on his tablet.

It's frighteningly normal and so, so chill and Zayn loves it. He loves it so much.

Louis texts periodically to tell Zayn about random happenings or send him inappropriate things and Harry sends him sad faces and complains about Niall never wanting to go out with him anymore. Zayn doesn't really understand how they haven't figured it out yet. But really, they've never really been all that bright.

They get too comfortable, him and Niall, in the sneaking around and getting away with it, that they start to let their guard down. It's the sound of a door shutting on a Sunday morning that makes them remember that they've actually got something to hide.

"Don't worry, it's me!"

Zayn is jolted from sleep at the sound of the voice, surprised to see himself tangled in familiar blankets that don't belong to him, lying beside a sleeping Niall, whose bare thighs are pressed up against his, whose hand is rested on Zayn's hip.

"I'm making tea!"

Zayn stares at the door, unblinking, his heart desperately trying to beat out of his chest.

It's Harry. It's Harry and Zayn is naked in Niall's bed.

He sits up quickly, jolting Niall from his cuddled position against Zayn's body, and Niall detaches himself from sleep and opens his eyes just as Zayn is bending over to find where he'd dropped his pants.

"What're you doin'? Come get back in bed."

Zayn freezes with a shoe in his hand. It's not even his. "Harry's here."

Niall pauses in rubbing the sleep from his eyes, as he hears the clanging from the kitchen. "Shit."

"He does this a lot? Just shows up?" Zayn asks, gripping the blanket that he'd secured around his waist, "Where are my pants, Niall."

Niall gets off the bed to go to his dresser, stark naked. Zayn looks away, cursing under his breath. He honestly does not have the time. "They're in the living room," Niall says. "He has a key."

"I don't have a key." Zayn says, accepting the pair of shorts that Niall hands him.

"You've never asked." Niall counters, and their hands are still wrapped together in the pair of shorts and Zayn watches the way Niall's eyelashes seem to look longer each time he blinks. "Do you want one?" Niall stares right back.

"Yes." Zayn says, and this feels important. Niall's fingers drag along the top of his hand. Zayn's about to do something drastic like bend Niall over his dresser but they realize simultaneously that the clanging has stopped with neither of them noticing.

"Shit." Niall says again, and Zayn blinks and finds himself being pushed towards the bathroom. "Just stay in there."

"Niall!" Zayn quietly protests.

"Please." Niall pleads and closes the door softly just as Zayn hears his door open.

\--

"So Niall's managed to land himself a boyfriend."

Zayn pauses mid bite and clears his throat when Harry speaks. Harry looks strangely pleased at the reaction.

"Oh. Yeah?" Zayn goes for nonchalant.

"Yeah. I was at his the other day and he had him hiding in his bathroom." Zayn hums in response. Harry grabs his cup and puts the straw in his mouth successfully on the first try, which, Zayn knows from experience, is a big deal. "He seems to really like him, though. The way he got all red when I asked about him."

Zayn stares really hard at his sandwich. Harry slurps his drink.

"What about you, then?"

"What do you mean?"

"I know the Liam thing set you back, but--"

"I'm fine." Zayn says, firmly.

But Harry ignores him. "Have you met anyone?"

"Sort of." Zayn answers, mumbling. "It's not a big deal."

"Of course it is." Harry steals a fry off of Zayn's plate and Zayn doesn't argue, which, Zayn realizes too late, Harry might take as a sign that it is a big deal.

"You like this person?"

"He's all right."

"Just all right?"

Zayn shrugs, but he can see it in his eyes, in his cheeks. More than all right.

"Okay. Just all right, then. Can I meet him?"

"No." Zayn says, admittedly too quickly.

"Wow. Okay, I thought we were friends, but obviously--"

"Harry, it feels serious, all right? But I want to make sure I'm committed first."

"You want to make sure you're committed or that he's committed." When Zayn doesn't answer, Harry sighs. "You're both stubborn."

"What?"

"Nothing." Harry says, "Do you want dessert?"

\--

Harry knows.

Zayn finds out when Niall texts him, a simple, vaguely ominous message _I don't know how he found out_

Harry reacts by ignoring him for two days, avoiding him at work, locking himself up in his office.

On the third day, he finally speaks to him. Zayn is in the break room cursing at the coffee machine when Harry approaches him and says, "Hey."

"Oh. So you're done avoiding me now?"

"I wasn't avoiding you!"

"We both know that's complete bullshit."

"I've come to say I'm sorry." Harry says.

"I just--I was shocked and I've been trying to get the image out of my mind. God. I can't stop thinking about it."

"What? You think about us fucking?"

"No!" Harry turns pink. "Jesus. No. Just the perfectly innocent thought that my two best friends are getting freaky and I didn't know anything about it."

"It's not a big deal."

"Yes, it is. I would've liked to know. Now I feel like a complete numpty. All those times I've tagged along with you on what were probably dates!"

"No one's going on any dates, Haz."

"Then what--"

"It's just not like that. We're not labeling it. And I don't want to talk about it."

"That's not fair."

"I don't care?" Zayn says, "And don't try to get involved."

"I wouldn't."

"You damn well would. You forget how well I know you. You're some kind of sadistic romantic. It's annoying."

"I like happy endings. I like love."

"You base everything in life on what happens in romantic comedies."

"There's nothing wrong with that."

"Of course not. Because you think you're actually in a romantic comedy. But Niall and I aren't your quirky best friends who don't know what's right in front of them. We're just...hanging out."

"Right. That's exactly what you're supposed to say. Who's in the romcom now?"

"I liked it better when you were ignoring me." Zayn grumps.

\--

"He's worried," Niall explains, leaning against the kitchen counter while Zayn's staring into a pot of noodles, frowning. "And I don't know, Zayn. Maybe he's right to be."

Zayn stops moving, a spike of anxiety shooting through his entire body. "What?" He asks.

"What are we doing?" Niall sighs, and it sounds muffled, like he's got a hand covering his face.

"We're--does it matter?"

"Zayn, you were hurt. You were hurt to the point where it made you unstable and you _kissed me_."

"Kissing you had nothing to do with Liam," Zayn says, automatically, turning on Niall who's watching Zayn carefully, trying to gauge his reaction.

"It had everything to do with Liam." Niall responds, shaking his head.

"Please stop assuming you know everything. You don't know how I feel."

"I know you weren't in a stable place. And I should've done that. I was selfish."

"Niall."

"I know what I am to you, Z. And it's. It's fine. I get it. I understand. You need someone who gives you something back, but I." Niall takes the steps forward necessary to stand right in front of him, "I can't save you, Zayn. Do you understand that? I'm not some knight in shining armor coming to whisk you away. I can't give you everything you need. I can't make you feel better. I can't cure you." Niall says, grabbing his arms, and keeping him in place, "But I'm also not Liam," he assures, "I'm not Perrie, and I'm not Danny. You can't go on thinking that I'm going to leave, that you're going to be abandoned. You can't live like that." He tells him, his eyes holding Zayn's. "Because it's tearing you apart."

Zayn feels trapped, paralyzed under Niall's gaze. He feels guilty, shamed, full of self-hatred and disgust.

He feels worthless.

He feels tired, dizzy, broken open and emptied out, forced to grab a hold onto the stove handle to steady himself.

And then he doesn't feel anything.

\--

Zayn's head is throbbing, heavy, when he wakes up on the couch.

Niall is sat on the coffee table directly in front of his inclined body, his hand stroking Zayn's head, thumb coming down to run over Zayn's eyebrow like he's grown accustomed to.

"I'm sorry."

"No," Zayn says, blinking against the pain behind his eyes, but tilting his head slightly to lean into Niall's touch, "You shouldn't have to be."

"I'm worried about you." Niall admits. "Worried about us. About what this means."

 _What I mean to you_ , he doesn't say, but Zayn knows.

Niall's not the only one who can read minds.

\--

Zayn falls onto Harry's bed after a night out with just the two of them, Harry curled up in just his pants and already snoring impressively.

He's feeling a bit lightheaded, having had one too many on an empty stomach, and it doesn't help when before he slides his finger across his phone, he sees a text from Niall waiting for him.

 _have dinner with me_  it says, almost like a command, like they hadn't spent a majority of the week apart, Niall needing space and time to figure out what the fuck is going on, and stressing that Zayn might need the distance, too.

He's smiling before he can even process it, eyes dragging over each letter, even Niall's name.

He realizes he's missed Niall--there's been this empty feeling persisting all throughout his body, one that isn't cured with sleep, with banal distractions that keep his mind far away from itself.

He's beginning to reply, typing out a definite yes when a new message pops up and he feels like he's just been hit by a car moving at 100 mph.

zaynnnn z i miss you i can't stop thinking about you, the first one comes in, it's Liam and Zayn doesn't have any time to prepare himself as the others start pouring in.

_im so selfish_

_i can't stand this i can't stand you hating me_

_i don't deserve you your sogood_

_i need you no don't read this delete delay delet_

Once the typing signal has disappeared, Zayn's typing, hands shaking, _put your phone down_

 _no nono_ , Liam texts.

_sorry m drunk_

_m tired n I miss you so much_

_don't tell tommo !!?'_

And it's that message that makes Zayn dial Louis immediately and he picks up on the second ring.

"Yeah? You all right? Jesus--it's three am. I've literally just put her down."

"You seen Liam lately?" Zayn talks over him, hoping his voice isn't as unstable as he feels.

"Yeah, he's passed out on my couch. Why?"

"He's drunk texting me."

Louis groans, the sound coming out weird, like it's stuck in his throat. "I specifically told him not to do that."

"Just. Get him to stop, yeah?" Zayn asks, trying to sound unaffected.

But it must not work, because Louis' voice is significantly softer when he says, "Yeah, yeah. Of course, Zayn. I'm sorry, I didn't think he'd actually---"

"S'fine, Lou." He says, quickly, "Thanks."

"No problem. It's my job, isn't it? Having your back?"

Zayns mind immediately fills up and blinds him with all the times he hasn't. “Yeah,” he says, anyway, “Always.”

\--

When Liam calls the next day, as Zayn's on the sofa alternating between snacking on gummy bears, separating them by color on his stomach and only eating all the red ones, and watching Harry do yoga with some kind of ambient sounds playing in the background.

His phone is behind him on the arm of the sofa and he tilts his head back to find it. When he sees the name on the screen, he freezes.

Harry sees it, straightening himself out of a position, and watching Zayn with a worried expression. "Is everything all right? Who is it?"

But when Zayn taps the green button to answer the call and says, carefully, guarded, "Hi," Harry understands, immediately pushing his hair back, biting at the corner of his mouth like he does when he's nervous. He's deliberating on staying in the room or not, by Zayn just nods, it's okay, and Harry excuses himself to the kitchen.

There's silence before Liam's saying, "Hi."

And Zayn hasn't heard his voice in so long. It's still the same, of course it is.

"I didn't think you'd answer."

"I didn't think you'd call." Zayn counters. "What is it, Liam?"

"Last night. I didn't mean--I'm so embarrassed. Honestly, I was so drunk, Zayn."

"We all make mistakes, right?" Zayn says, trying not to sound too vulnerable, or too victimizing.

"No, but the things I said--"

But Zayn shakes his head, brushing it off. "It's forgotten, Li. I deleted them." He hadn't. He'd stared at them once more before falling asleep, and again that morning as Harry moaned and groaned about his head and scolded both himself and Zayn about engaging in self-inflicted torturous behavior.

Zayn was never really all that good at taking advice and orders.

"At least let me say that I'm sorry." Liam begs.

"There's no need to be sorry. If roles were reversed, I'd've drunk texted you too."

"Yeah. But if roles were reversed, you wouldn't have the need to."

"How d'you mean?"

"You're so good, Zayn. You'd've never made the mistake of tearing us apart."

"Liam--"

"I've gotta go. Talk later though, yeah?"

And all Zayn can do is nod, unable to remember that Liam can't see him through the phone.

\--

He tells Niall at dinner -- about the texts, the call, the way they'd both threatened to put him back where he once was: locked in his room for days on end, taking sleeping pills so he wouldn't have to be conscious, distancing himself from everyone, cursing himself for getting too attached, too easily, too often.

And Niall listens like he had before, but this time it's with a comforting touch, his fingers slipping through to lock with Zayn's.

But all Zayn can think about is the fact that he's proving Niall's point.

“This is bullshit,” Niall says, after a while, balling his napkin up and tossing it on the table.

Zayn tenses, but he can still feel Niall's ankle against his under the table.

"I'm so tired of this, Z. I'm so tired of you feeling like you're hopeless and everything you do is a mistake. And I know I don't have a right to be, because I don't know what it's like to be inside your head, I don't know how hard it is for you and that kills me. I hate seeing you like this, and I hate that you feel like this, that you have to deal with it on your own."

"Niall, it's--" Zayn shakes his head. "I didn't mean to let this get to you."

"It's not your fault, Zayn. You didn't force me to get involved, I made that decision myself. I'm here, I'm always here for you because I want to be. I'm crazy about you."

Zayn feels a thrill, but it's muted, subdued by the slight panic rising. "You don't mean that." He says, and shakes his head. He wants him to. He wants to feel special, needed, protected. And he wants to give that feeling back. 

Niall leans across the table, places a hand on the back of Zayn's neck and pulls him in until their foreheads are touching. "You won't believe how much I do." He says, "I said I can't save you, Zayn," he runs a finger along Zayn's jawline, and Zayn closes his eyes, trying to breathe. And when Niall says, "But I can love you," he doesn't think he will ever be able to breathe again.

\--

She's crying, this shrill sound that's echoing in Zayn's ears.

Louis' trying to calm her down, rocking her back and forth, pacing in the middle of the living room, and Harry's standing with his hands on his hips, shaking his head at him, "Does she need to be changed? Give her to me."

Louis levels Harry with a look, going over to sit beside Sophia on the sofa, who starts to make ridiculous pouty faces at the baby over Louis shoulder, "Thanks, Harry, I'd rather not never see my child again, actually."

Niall snorts from where he and Zayn are sorting through gifts from her birthday party, sat on the floor and leaning against each other and whispering more than doing actual work, "Don't think she wants either of you."

"I mean--I don't blame her, really." Louis says, relenting as she reaches for Sophia, allowing her to take the baby from his hands.

"Should I be defending your honor?" Liam asks, wrapping his arm around Sophia and grabbing the baby's hand to pretend to eat it.

"Oh relax," Sophia says, rolling her eyes, "I've just got one of those faces, I guess."

"Isn't that not what I just said?" Louis complains, and Zayn's distracted, doesn't really want to hear this, itching for a cigarette.

"I'm gonna go for a smoke," he says, low at Niall.

"Want me to come with?" He asks, and Zayn smiles, shaking his head.

"Nah, they may need you to intervene. Haz is looking pretty grumpy."

He ruffles Niall's shaggy hair on the way out, Niall leaning back into his hand until his lips press a chaste kiss to Zayn's Palm.

Liam follows him a whole minute later.

When Zayn hears the door open once more, he doesn't turn his head. It was inevitable. He lights his cigarette and keeps quiet as Liam stands beside him with his hand stuffed in the tight pockets of his jeans.

But then Liam laughs, like he can't believe himself or the situation and Zayn does turn his head then, just to see if Liam's lost his mind.

He looks normal enough, if a bit helpless looking. "Zayn, I--"

"How's Sophia?" Zayn interrupts, not really interested in the reply, but not sure he's interested in what Liam might have said either.

Liam closes his mouth and turns so that he's watching the street instead of Zayn. "She's great." Liam answers, then, "How's Niall?"

He'd found out about the two of them through Louis, that same day. It hasn't helped that he and Niall could barely separate from each other.

Zayn can't control the twitch of his lips, the almost smile that always teases him when he thinks of him. "He's brilliant."

And he is. They are. Together. Insanely.

"That's good. Zayn, that's really good."

"Thanks." Zayn flicks his eyes, watching Liam watch the cars pass. "I'm sorry." He says, out of the blue.

Liam turns, then, stepping closer to Zayn than is probably necessary. He bends his head to capture Zayn's line of vision with his. Zayn doesn't look away. It's probably time.

"You have no reason to be sorry, all right? I don't want you to feel--to feel like you're the villain."

"But am I not?" Zayn says, "I should have never--"

"Zayn, _I_  kissed you."

"And I let you." Zayn retorts, "I was selfish." He felt heavy, his throat sore, his fingers weakly holding on to his cigarette. "I kissed you back."

"You weren't selfish. I was. I knew--" He stops talking, realizing he's put his foot in it.

Zayn's mind comes to a screeching halt. "What did you just say?"

Liam watches him, he looks like he's trembling. Zayn suddenly can't find it in him to care. "I--I knew how you felt. I think I'd always known. I just."

"You just what?" Zayn's voice is starting to rise, can feel his heart racing, his muscles tensing. Liam _knew_.

"I just thought it was one of those things. Like. The proximity. I. We spent _so much time together_ , Zayn. I didn't think it was anything serious."

"So you thought you'd just kiss me to see what would happen?" Zayn asks, "That's so fucking--"

"I know!"

"Let me speak. I deserve that at least, yeah?" Zayn says, "What you did was pretty shit, Liam. It was manipulative and selfish. You knew exactly how I felt about you and you kissed me. You gave me apart of you that I never thought I'd ever get. You let me believe that I had a chance. You gave me hope and then you took it away. That was cruel. You were so cruel. And I really believed that you chose me. You finally picked me. And I felt so lucky. I felt invincible. You made me feel so happy--" He stops, shaking his head. He's better than this. And it doesn't matter, not anymore. Zayn wonders if it ever did. "I was a fucking idiot."

"No." Liam keeps getting closer. Zayn's afraid he's going to touch him. "Zayn, you're not an idiot. Please don't say that. I." He does reach out, then, taking Zayn's wrist in a loose grip. "I fucked up. And I'm sorry. I don't think I ever said that to you. I'm sorry and I wish I could take it back. I wish I could have done anything else. I was just trying to make you feel better, I had no intention of making it worse but that's no excuse because I did. I hurt you. And that kills me. You mean everything to me, Zayn. And you can hate me. I'll deal with it. I want you to hate me. I deserve that. You deserve better."

"I don't hate you, Liam." Zayn breathes, his hands shaking. "I just really fucking wish that I did."

He slips his wrist out of Liam's grip just as the door behind them slams shut from someone coming out of it. They both turn and Zayn feels that tug in his chest, the one he only gets when he's around one person.

"All right?" Niall asks, bouncing in place from the cold, reaching back to pull up the hood of his jacket.

Zayn smiles back at him, feeling weightless.

"Yeah," he says, walking over to meet him halfway. He slides his hand into the back pockets of Niall's jeans, pulling him close.

Niall looks amused, like he's waiting for the punchline of one of Harry's crap jokes, or watching Louis try to toss snack crackers into Liam's mouth, but only managing to consistently hit Liam in the forehead.

Zayn presses a kiss to Niall's lips, keeping it simple, but still lovely.

"I'm all right." He says.

And this time. This time he thinks he means it.


End file.
